


...and it's only such love that can know true freedom.

by Iwouldhavelovedyouforever



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drunk Ian, During Season 8, Gallavich, Hurt Ian, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, Hurt/Comfort, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Ian misses mickey, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Mickey Milkovich Misses Ian Gallagher, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post 7x12, Sad Ian, Sad Mickey, Voicemail, leaving messages for his love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-01 14:18:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13296660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwouldhavelovedyouforever/pseuds/Iwouldhavelovedyouforever
Summary: “You would get it.” Ian finished, hanging his head and staring down at his lap.He took a deep breath before continuing.“Listen Mick, I never apologized to you for what happened back then... after my diagnosis, before you went to jail.“I wasn’t myself, but that’s no excuse. You didn’t deserve that, all you did was care for me and I threw it all back in your face like you meant nothing to me.”“I am really sorry Mickey... you- you deserved better than that.”





	1. Ian.

**The first time Ian called, he was drunk.**

  
He knew he wasn’t meant to drink that much on his meds but he was feeling down and alcohol seemed to help.. for the night anyway.

  
He had been sitting on his bed for awhile, staring down at the phone.

  
Then, before he even fully comprehended what he was doing, he had pressed redial and had the phone held up to his ear.

  
Ian was surprised it even rang, but it did. It rang an excess of twelve times before it stopped.

  
Ian was about to hang up when he heard a sound he wasn’t expecting; a _beep._

  
Ian pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a second, he had forgotten that the burner phones had a message service and his breath caught in his throat at the thought of leaving a message.

  
He swallowed quickly and collected himself, this was fine, he could do this...

  
“Uh. Hi.” He grunted into the phone.

  
His voice sounded foreign in its drunken state and Ian felt like he needed to identify himself.

  
“Its, uh- it’s Ian.”

  
“Ian Gallagher.” He continued and then regretted saying that immediately, he didn’t need to be that formal.

  
“Red, or uh... Firecrotch if you like..” Ian said with a giggle, over compensating for his formalness.

  
“I uh, I don’t even know if you still have this phone but.. uh, I was thinking about you and uh, thought it was, you know.. worth a try.” Ian stuttered, trying to make a little bit of sense with his drunken ramblings.

  
Ian paused for a second, trying to figure out what to say, but nothing felt good enough.  
“I miss you.” He blurted out, a little louder than he intended.

  
“I know that I don’t have the right to, but I do.”  
Ian hung his head, tears picking at the corners of his eyes.

  
“And... I’m so sorry, for everything.”

  
Ian closed his eyes and felt the hot tears escape down his cheeks.

  
“I’m so sorry Mick.” He choked out, quickly hanging up the phone and throwing it on his bed before the hopeless sobs took over his body.

                                     XX

  
**The second time Ian called, he was angry.**

  
He barely waited for the beep this time before starting his rant.

  
“Stupid fucking people thinking they can treat me like shit because of my illness!”

  
“Its not my fucking fault I’m bipolar, I didn’t ask for this!”

  
Ian angrily paced in the bedroom he shared with his brothers as he continued ranting.

  
“I can do my job as well as any other fucker, if not better!”

  
“Can you believe that someone actually complained? Said they didn’t want me to assist them because they had seen me in the clinic when they had gone to visit a family member! If anything, that should make them understand more! Not fucking request someone else to check if their fucking arm was broken!”

  
Ian paused for a second, trying to calm the thoughts racing through his brain.

  
“It just sucks.” He spat out bitterly, finally calming himself enough to sit down on his bed. “I’ve worked so hard to get away from the stigma and there it is; thrust into my face like it means fucking nothing.”

  
Ian sighed. “Sorry if you do actually listen to this, I didn’t mean to unload on you like that, just didn’t know who else to talk to, no-one understands...”

  
“Not like you did.” He finished quietly.

  
“Even if you never listen to this, it helped to at least get it out, I can’t- I can’t talk to anyone else like this because they accuse me of being manic or some shit.”

  
“I’m not being manic, you know that right? I'm allowed to get angry sometimes aren’t I?”  
Ian sighed. “I swear sometimes everyone is just waiting, waiting for me to break again like I’m some fragile piece of shit.”

  
“Uh, anyway, I’ve taken up enough of your time... if you ever even listen to this.  
If you do... I hope you’re well Mick, I really do.”

                                       XX

  
**The third time Ian called, he was heartbroken.**

  
It had been a couple of months since Monica had died and since he had left Mickey at the Mexican border, he wasn’t sure which hurt more.

  
He was sitting alone on his bed, thoughts racing through his head.

  
He knew it was selfish to keep calling, especially if Mickey was actually listening to the messages, but he couldn’t help it.. it was like a free therapy session for him, it helped him get through his thoughts and find clarity where he thought he never would.

  
So he picked up the phone and dialled the only number in it.

  
“Hey Mick.” He said after he heard the beep, his voice low and steady.

  
“If you’re listening to these, I hope you’re well, I hope you found your beach and that you’re feeling free out there.”

  
Ian sighed. “I’m not- I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel bad for me, I don’t... but uh- I don’t know if you knew, but Monica died.

  
She had a brain aneurysm that she apparently only told Frank about and she died while I was with you at the border.”

  
“I did alright with it for awhile, it was what it was... but I think it’s really starting to hit me properly now.”

  
“It was okay to be angry with her when she was alive, she would just pop in, fuck up our lives and then fuck off again...”

  
Ian paused for a second, choking back the tears that were threatening to come out in his voice.

  
“I keep thinking back to the last time I saw her, she just wanted to have a drink with me and I snapped at her after she made some fucking comment about me being wound up like her.. it hit a nerve, you know? I’m always fucking being compared to her. But that wasn’t her fault; I should have stayed, at least had a drink with her.”

  
“I miss her man.”

  
“I don’t want to, I wish I didn’t; but I do.”

  
“I guess it was easier to not miss her when she could just rock up anytime... now she’s dead, it’s different.”

  
“No-one gets that though.. they- my family, they think I’m crazy for even caring that she’s dead.”

  
“ _You_ would get it.” Ian finished, hanging his head and staring down at his lap.

  
He took a deep breath before continuing.

  
“Listen Mick, I never apologized to you for what happened back then... after my diagnosis, before you went to jail.

  
“I wasn’t myself, but that’s no excuse. You didn’t deserve that, all you did was care for me and I threw it all back in your face like you meant nothing to me.”

  
“I am really sorry Mickey... you- you deserved better than that.”

  
Ian fell silent for a minute, unsure of what else to say, these were things he had held on for so long, it almost felt good to finally let it out.

  
“I really do hope you’re good Mick.” Ian finished softly before finally hanging up and laying back on his bed.

                                      XX

  
**The fourth time Ian called, he was excited.**

  
He had been recognized for his work as an EMT and he was nominated for a ‘Unsung heroes of Chicago’ award.

  
It had been so humbling and gratifying to receive such a nomination and Ian really wanted to tell Mickey about it, even if he would never listen to the message.

  
He had finished work and was walking through the streets as he pulled the burner phone out of his pocket and held it up to his ear.

  
Ian waited patiently as the phone rang twelve times as it usually did until he heard the beep.

  
“Mick, guess what?” Ian started, his voice full of excitement as soon as the beep sounded.

  
“I got nominated for an award.. it’s not much... it’s just some silly award ceremony thing they do every year where they recognize people that like, contribute to the community or whatever.”

  
“I guess some of my patients much have nominated me or something.”

  
Ian knew he was rambling but at this point he couldn’t stop.

  
“I mean I probably won’t win, there’s like HEAPS of people nominated that are exceptionally better than me and have actually done things that mean something, but it’s still really nice to know that people think enough of me to nominate me, you know?”

  
“I mean, I didn’t get into that kind of work for the accolades, I got into it because I wanted to help people... but it’s nice to feel appreciated, like I’m actually making a difference.”

  
Ian trailed off as he finally stopped and took in his surroundings, he had walked pretty far from work.

  
“Sorry, I’ve been rambling again.” He said sheepishly when he realized how long he had been talking.

  
“it’s just so easy to talk to you.. even if you don’t answer back.. just knowing I’m talking to you... it’s enough.”

  
Ian sighed, feeling like he was beginning to sound like a broken record, but he needed to get out what was going through his head.

  
“Mick, I know that I said this last time.. but I am really sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on like that, make you think I was gonna come with you and then.. not.”

  
“ _Fuck_!” he cried out, running a hand through his hair.

  
“I’m so fucking selfish!” he practically shouted into the phone.

  
“But you already knew that.” Ian muttered, a lot quiter now.

  
“I need to stop calling you... you're probably not even getting these messages, but if you are you’re more than likely trying to move on with your life... the last thing you need is your ex calling you and bitching at you about things you don’t need to give a shit about.”

  
“I guess... I guess it’s like with Monica... when you were in jail I knew where you were and that it wasn’t plausible for us to be together, so it was easier to try and move on and not think about you.. but now that you’re out... after I saw you again, _free_ , I can’t seem to go back to pretending that- pretending that you don’t exist anymore.”

  
Ian finished his speech, wincing at how selfish he sounded, even to himself.

  
But he needed to say these things, Mickey needed to hear them, even if it he never did, at least they were out in the open now, not buried in Ian like they had been.

  
“God Mick, why did you even come back? I treated you so shit last time we saw each other... when I visited you in jail.”

  
“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you never wanted to see me again after that.”

  
Ian ran a hand through his hair, trying to remember how he has felt back then; his new set of meds were finally starting to kick in and he had had it in his head that he was making something of himself and that he would be better off without Mickey.

  
The thought of that nearly made Ian laugh now, he probably would have if he wasn’t so angry at himself.

  
“You kept putting yourself in the line for me... and for what? For me to just shove it back in your face? _Jesus_ , Mickey! I was such a dick to you!”

  
Ian kicked at the ground beneath his feet, watching as his work boots made the dust fly around him.

  
“And for what? To feel numb for the rest of my fucking life? I can’t even remember the last time I felt something real, something that made me feel even the slightest bit alive!”

  
Ian stopped.

  
“Oh wait, yes I do.. it was when I was with you last.”

  
Ian fell silent for a minute before the beep indicating that the allocated message leaving time was up sounded.

  
Ian stared down at the phone, gathering his thoughts.

  
He could call back.. but he felt like he had unloaded enough tonight... he felt emotionally exhausted.

  
This really was ten times better than therapy.  
He had been holding onto this guilt and regret over certain aspects of his and Mickey’s relationship for so long, it felt so good to get them off his chest.

  
Ian sighed heavily as he started the long trek home.

  
For the first time in what seemed like forever he felt somewhat... peaceful.

                                   XX 

  
**The fifth time Ian called, he was remorseful.**

  
He had waited as long as he possibly could- which ended up being two days- before calling again.

  
Finally apologizing to Mickey for things he had been holding on to for so long had released something in him and now he couldn't stop thinking about their relationship and how much he had fucked up.

  
He had so much to apologize for and now that he had started he couldn’t stop.

  
Not until Mickey understood how sorry he was.

  
Ian put the phone to his ear and counted out the rings.

  
_Ten, eleven, twelve, beeeeep._

  
“I was in shock when you came back.” Ian started, not even bothering with a greeting this time.

  
“I honestly didn’t think I would see you again and then all of a sudden there you were.. you were real again, not this thing that I had- or so I thought- pushed to the back of my head.

  
You were real, and you were you and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

  
My family, my job, _Trevor_ , nothing mattered but you and me and that moment.”

  
Ian paused. He had never mentioned Trevor by name to Mickey before but he thought that sounded better than “my boyfriend” especially because Trevor didn’t hold that title anymore.

  
“But then, when we were at the border, reality kicked in.

  
I worked so hard to get my job Mick, and I fucking love it, I’m really good at it and I couldn't just leave them high and dry like that..”

  
Ian closed his eyes tightly, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to come out.

  
“And my family...” he choked out.

  
“As much as I complain about them and they annoy the crap out of me... they’re my family and I love them.”

  
“It wouldn’t have been safe to tell them where we were or even say goodbye.. I couldn’t do that to them Mick.”

  
“Not after everything I’ve put them through.” He said softly.

  
Ian took a deep breath.

  
“What you said about me having your back more than your family did.. that’s true for you too.

  
You had my back when no-one else did... when I first got sick.. they- my family- wanted to put me straight into a clinic, but you knew that I wouldn’t have wanted that... you knew me better than anyone.”

  
Ian felt himself choking up again but he quickly swallowed his emotion and kept going.

  
“I missed you so much too Mick, you have no idea.

  
I had just gotten so good at pretending that I didnt feel anything, when it came to actually telling you that... I couldn’t find the words.

  
But I want you to know, I did think about you alot.. not at first, when I was being a selfish dick and trying to forget you even existed, but definitely after.”

  
Ian grimaced as he remembered how fucked up he had been back then.

  
“Once- once I got on the right dose of meds and the side effects calmed down, I could actually think clearly and that’s when I started really missing you. Sometimes I would wake up and forget that you weren’t here anymore.. I would have to live through our breakup again...”

  
Ian trailed off, making a face.

  
Those weeks had been some of the hardest of his life.

  
He would wake up and one of the first things He would do in his drug induced state would be to ask where Mickey was.

  
After awhile he had got sick of the sympathetic looks on his siblings faces so he stopped asking.

  
But it was still the first question he would ask himself.

  
Ian cleared his throat.

  
“But anyway. The point of this trip down memory lane is that I need you to know, it was never about you; the reason I didn’t come with you.

  
It was never about you not being enough or anything.

  
If I hadn’t had my job and my family, I would have come with you in a heartbeat”

  
Ian sighed.

  
“I know it might sound like I’m making excuses but I need you to know this.”

  
“Lip was surprised I didn’t come you know?” he said, remembering his conversation with his older brother.

  
Ian let out a choked out, dry laugh.

  
“He didnt think I should have, but he was surprised I didn’t.”

  
“Anyway.” Ian continued, “I just really wanted you to know that.”

  
“Bye Mick, I hope things are going good for you.”

  
Ian paused and then quickly made up his mind.

  
“I love you.” He said before hanging up and holding the phone up to his lips.

 

                                     XX

  
**The sixth time Ian called, the phone only rang 10 times.**

  
Ian had had a good day, he had a good shift at work and Carl and his new girlfriend had cooked a really nice meal for them so his belly was full and satisfied.

  
It was a nice summer night so he had gone out the back for some privacy to leave his message.

  
Leaving these messages had become so therapeutic for Ian, he always ended the call feeling so much more collected than when he started the call and had started to feel a sense of content after he had hung up from the last couple.

  
He figured it has to do with the fact that he was releasing so much regret and tension that he had built up in himself over the years.

  
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so.. light!

  
Ian smiled as he pressed the call button and held the phone up to his ear, he didn’t have a clue what he was going to say this time but it usually just came out as he started talking.

  
Ian subconsciously counted the rings as he heard them.

  
_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten..._

  
Then, the last thing Ian expected to hear; a click and then silence.

  
Ian’s breath caught in his throat as he pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it; it was still connected, which meant...

  
“Mick?” Ian breathed, sitting straight up on the porch, hands shaking slightly.

  
More silence.

  
Then, when Ian was about to ask again, a deep breath came from the other end.

  
“Hi.”

  
Mickey sounded reserved, tired, reluctant and pissed off, all at once, but Ian didn’t care...

  
He had answered!

  
Which means he must have got the messages!

  
For a second, Ian's heart soared but then reality brought him back down, he didn’t know if Mickey even wanted to talk to him.

  
But, he had answered hadn’t he? That had to count for something.

  
A thousand things ran through Ian’s head that he wanted to scream out.

  
_I miss you_

  
_I'm sorry._

  
_I love you so much it fucking hurts._

  
But before Ian could get any words out Mickey was clearing his throat.

  
“I uh- I got your messages.”

                                   XX

 

 


	2. Mickey's side, part one.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey stopped in his tracks and subconsciously breathed in the scent and before he knew what was happening he felt tears prick in the corners of his eyes.
> 
> At first Mickey was able to angrily wipe them away with the side of his hand, but then they came on stronger. 
> 
> “Fucking asshole!” he yelled, slamming a hand on the top of the steering wheel.
> 
> “Fucking hate you.” He muttered as the tears started streaming down his face.
> 
> But he didnt.
> 
> He couldn't. 
> 
> And that thought made him cry even harder. 
> 
> “Fuck!” he growled out, trying to compose  
> himself.
> 
> He was a Milcovich.
> 
> Milcovich's didn’t sit in cars and cry about ginger fucks who bitch out on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew... this took A lot longer than I thought.. and it's a lot longer so I'm going to post this and then continue writing the next half of Mickey's reaction to the messages leading up to the call that he answers! Thanks again for all the comments, they truly make my day! (:

The first time Mickey heard Ian’s voice he had nearly cried.

  
It had been pretty lonely the last couple of months.

  
After he had left Ian at the border, successfully managing to not even glance back at the man once, he had drove through the checkpoint without any trouble and drove on cautiously for a couple of miles, not fully convinced he was out of the woods yet.

  
Once he had driven a safe distance away from the border Mickey pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the car.

  
He ripped the stupid dress off and changed into his regular clothes, throwing his disguise in the back of the car.

  
Satisfied that he looked and felt more like himself, Mickey got back into the drivers seat and leant over to open the glove box where he had put his packet of smokes.

  
That’s when it hit him.

  
The unmistakable, irreplaceable smell of Ian Gallagher.

  
Mickey stopped in his tracks and subconsciously breathed in the scent and before he knew what was happening he felt tears prick in the corners of his eyes.

  
At first Mickey was able to angrily wipe them away with the side of his hand, but then they came on stronger.

  
“Fucking asshole!” he yelled, slamming a hand on the top of the steering wheel.

  
“Fucking hate you.” He muttered as the tears started streaming down his face.

  
But he didnt.

  
He couldn't.

  
And that thought made him cry even harder.

  
“Fuck!” he growled out, trying to compose himself.

  
He was a Milcovich.

  
Milcovich's didn’t sit in cars and cry about ginger fucks who bitch out on them.

  
Mickey put both hand on the steering wheel, trying to steady his emotions.

  
He couldn’t decide which emotion felt worse, the burning anger in his chest or the dull aching feeling in his heart.

  
Mickey wiped the last of the tears off his face with his t-shirt and grabbed one of the cigarettes out of the packet he had retrieved.

  
Lighting It, he tried to gather his thoughts.

  
He was fucking angry, but surprisingly he wasn’t that angry with Ian, he was more angry with himself.

  
He knew his and Ian's story, their track record, why did he think it would be any better this time?

  
Of course Ian didn’t end up coming with him.

  
Why would he want to leave his comfortable job and comfortable boyfriend to be on the run with Mickey??

  
_Fucked for life_.

  
He’d said that to Ian once.

  
Back when everything seemed so fucking innocent, when the worst thing Mickey had to worry about was the little ginger fuck getting too attached to him.

  
The thought made Mickey almost laugh now.

  
Things had changed a lot since those days, _he_ had changed a lot.

  
But as far as Mickey was concerned, that fact was still true; he was fucked for life.

  
Mickey sighed, threw the butt of his cigarette out the window and started the car back up, he may as well get used to being lonely, this was it for him.

  
                                    XX

  
A couple of months later, Mickey had settled.

  
He had found a small town close to a beach and had found a job clearing glasses at a local bar where the owner had organized accommodation in the form of a one bedroom apartment for him upstairs.

  
He figured she must have taken a liking to him because he seemed to be getting quite a few shifts for someone that had only started work a few months ago.

  
Not that Mickey was complaining, he would take anything he could get right now and he quite liked Hannah too.

  
Even though he didn’t quite know what to do with the vibes he got off her sometimes.

  
He had been a bit reluctant to give them his name, he didn’t trust anyone there yet and wasn’t sure if he should chance it, so he settled on telling them his first name only.

  
No-one made a fuss of it so Mickey figured it must happen a bit and was relieved he didn’t have to tell them his last name... It was almost like he could get away from the Milkovich name for a while.

  
Mickey had just finished a close shift at the bar and trudged up the stairs to his apartment.

  
There were five apartments upstairs, all occupied by employees from the bar.

  
Hannah had the biggest and the rest of the apartments linked to hers.

  
The apartment came furnished with basics, so he had a bed, a dresser, a small desk and an even smaller T.V that sat in the corner of the room.

  
The apartment also had a small kitchen and bathroom, but Mickey’s favourite feature was the small balcony situated out of a sliding door at the side of his apartment.

  
He liked to go out there at night and sit at the small outdoor table setting and chain smoke.

  
He liked it out there at night, his Chicago accustomed body was nowhere near used to the intense heat of Mexico, so he preferred it when it was cooler, more manageable.

  
Mickey was just about to go outside that night when he heard an incessant beeping sound coming from the direction of his dresser.

  
_What the the fuck?_

  
He walked over to the dresser and opened the drawer, sifting through his things until he found the offending object; a small burner phone that he had forgot about.

  
Flipping it open Mickey was surprised to see the screen lit up with the words ‘one new voice message.’

  
Who the fuck would be calling him? No-one had the fucking number..

  
_Except..._

  
Mickey shook his head.

  
There would be no way Ian would be calling, Ian didn’t want to talk to him, he had made that very clear when he left him at the border to start his new life in Mexico by himself.

  
Mickey's hands were shaking as he held the phone,

  
_Surely not..._

  
Mickey grabbed his smokes and headed out to his balcony, phone gripped tightly in his hand.

  
He sat down at the table, popped a smoke out of the packet, lit it and picked up the phone again.

  
He could just ignore it... there would be no harm in it, no-one would even know.

  
He bit his bottom lip, chewing on it for a little bit before making up his mind.

  
He quickly pressed the call button and held the phone up to his ear.

  
“You have one, new voice message.” The woman on the answering service drones in her annoying monotone voice.

  
“Yeah, yeah. Play it for me dipshit” Mickey snapped making a motioning gesture at the phone, willing it to hurry up.

  
Then came a beep and silence.

  
Then the sound of someone fumbling with the phone and finally a voice.

  
A voice that Mickey didn’t think he would ever hear again.

  
_“Uh. Hi.”_

  
The voice sounded deep and slightly slurred, but Mickey would know it anywhere.

  
Mickey felt his throat choke up.

  
_No._

  
He promised himself he wasn’t gonna cry over Ian anymore, he had already done enough of that.

  
He swallowed thickly and kept listening.

  
_“Its uh- it’s Ian.”_

  
_“Ian Gallagher.”_

  
Mickey rolled his eyes.

  
“No shit, fuckface.” He muttered.

  
Mickey closed his eyes as he listened to Ian ramble on in his obviously drunken state.

  
Then...

  
_“I miss you.”_

  
Mickey’s heart tightened in his chest.

  
No.

  
_“I know I don’t have the right to, but I do.”_

  
_No._

  
_“And... I’m so sorry, for everything.”_

  
NO.

  
_“I’m so sorry Mick.”_

  
And that was it.

  
Mickey had been able to stay relatively strong so far, but hearing Ian say that, and say his name like that, so obviously choked up, Mickey stood no chance.

  
At first he didn’t even realize he was crying; it had been a while.

  
But soon, hot tears were streaming down his face and his whole upper body was shaking.

  
“Fuck you Gallagher.” He muttered, trying to be angry to try and stop the tears.

  
It didn’t work.

  
“Fuck!” Mickey growled, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

  
It’s not like he hadn’t thought about Ian, he did, all the fucking time!

  
But this was different, hearing Ian’s voice again, it was almost like it made his pain feel even more real.

  
                                 XX

  
Mickey continued with life as well as he could but he would find him checking the phone nightly, just in case Ian called again.

  
He didn’t know what he would do if Ian called while he had the phone on him.. he definitely wouldn’t be able to answer it.

  
Not for now.

  
So he left in in his room and only checked it once a night, mostly to keep himself sane and from checking it every five minutes.

  
Life just went on.

  
He liked his job, the bar wasn’t too busy but busy enough to make the shifts go quick and when he wasn’t working he would walk down to the beach and walk in the water.

  
He wasn’t game enough to try swimming and was too proud to tell anyone that he couldn’t actually swim, so he just waded and enjoyed the feel of the water and the sand.

  
One night, a couple of weeks after the first phone call, Mickey had finished work and had headed back up to his apartment, grabbing a beer from his fridge and his pack of smokes off his dresser.

  
Just out of habit he checked the burner as he took the cap off the beer.

  
_“One new Voice message.”_

  
Mickey’s heart raced.

  
_Ian!_

  
He tucked his smokes away in his pocket and took the beer and phone out to the balcony, not even waiting to sit down before he dialled the voicemail.

  
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting Ian to sound so angry on the other end.

  
It took him a second, but slowly a smile crept onto his face.

  
It was Ian.

  
No fucking around, no stepping on egg shells, it was Ian, he was angry and he wanted to talk to Mickey about it.

  
Mickey shook his head, the smile still lingering on his face.

  
He did feel for the fucker, that wasn’t fair.  
But the fact that after everything they had fucking been through, Ian was calling him to complain about his job like it was something that happened all the time...

  
Mickey couldn’t help but laugh a little at the irony.

  
Ian went on for awhile, obviously pissed off and then finished by saying he hoped Mickey was well.

  
Mickey hung up the phone and shook his head.

  
_Fucking Gallagher!_

  
He understood where Ian was coming from though, he’d seen it himself.

  
Ian’s family loved him, there was no denying that, but they seemed to love it alot more when he told them that he was fine rather than when he wasn’t doing too well.

  
Mickey had been the only one in Ian’s life that didn’t mind if Ian wasn’t doing good, they would work it out together...

  
Until.

  
_No._

  
Mickey didn’t think about that time of his life... it was too hard, it still hurt way too much.

  
So he pushed it out of his mind like he always did and lit another smoke.

  
                                  XX

  
Things were looking up for Mickey; he had been promoted at work.

  
Hannah had asked him one night if he was interested in completing his RSA and working in the bar for her, she was always short of someone and told him that she would rather move him up then have to train a whole new person.

  
Mickey jumped at the chance and put all he had into the course.

  
It was only a one day thing and Mickey passed with flying colours, he had always known his alcohol and the theory part was pretty easy.

  
It had been two weeks and he was actually really liking his new position.

  
The customers were mostly regulars and the drink orders weren’t any of that fancy shit he had to do for his RSA test, mostly just beer.

  
He didn’t mind talking to the regulars that much either, they were all pretty nice and treated him much better than he’d ever been treated in Chicago, but then, he was a different person then he was in Chicago.

  
Without the Milkovich name haunting him, he had the chance to reinvent himself as the person he’d always had the potential to be.

  
But he hadn't changed too much, there was still Southside in him,

  
He just hadn’t had to show it yet.

  
Ian hadn’t called in a couple of weeks and Mickey wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

  
He still checked the phone every night, just the once.

  
But he couldn’t deny the way his heart raced when he would open the drawer and flip open the burner.

  
The night he got the next message was a scorcher.

  
It was so hot that Mickey immediately stripped off into his boxers as soon as he arrived in his apartment.

  
He grabbed his smokes off the dresser and a beer out of his fridge; his daily ritual.

  
Then, as he always did, he opened the drawer and checked the burner, heart racing.

  
Mickey’s throat tightened when he saw that there was a new message.

  
Mickey grabbed his stuff and took it outside, settling in before pressing call and holding the phone up to his ear.

  
_“Hey Mick.”_ Ian’s voice came through, sounding somber.

  
Mickey’s heart went out to him before he had the chance to stop it.

  
_“If you’re listening to these, I hope you’re well, I hope you found your beach and that you’re feeling free out there.”_

  
Mickey smiled warily, at least Ian remembered their plans.

  
_“I’m not- I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel bad for me, I don’t... but uh- I don’t know if you knew, but Monica died.”_

  
Mickey closed his eyes. _Fuck!_

  
Ian was never super close to his mum but Mickey knew she still meant a lot to him, maybe more than she did to any of the other Gallaghers.

  
Except Frank of course.

  
_“She had a brain aneurysm that she apparently only told Frank about and she died while I was with you at the border.”_

  
Mickey ran a hand down his face, trying not to imagine Ian’s own face while he was leaving this message,

  
He tried really hard not to imagine pulling Ian in and hugging him, attempting to make him feel less shit than he sounded through the phone right now.

  
_“I did alright with it for awhile, it was what it was... but I think it’s really starting to hit me properly now.”_

  
_“It was okay to be angry with her when she was alive, she would just pop in, fuck up our lives and then fuck off again...”_

  
Mickey nodded even though he knew that Ian couldn't see or hear him.

  
He knew where Ian was coming from, he’d seen it himself, fuck. He'd been through it himself.

  
_“I keep thinking back to the last time I saw her, she just wanted to have a drink with me and I snapped at her after she made some fucking comment about me being wound up like her.._

_it hit a nerve, you know? I’m always fucking being compared to her. But that wasn’t her fault; I should have stayed, at least had a drink with her.”_

  
Mickey rolled his eyes.

  
He HATED when the Gallagher’s would compare Ian to his mother. Just because they both had the same fucking unfair disease didn’t make Ian the fucking train wreck that Monica was.

  
_“I miss her man.”_

  
_“I don’t want to, I wish I didn’t; but I do.”_

  
_“I guess it was easier to not miss her when she could just rock up anytime... now she’s dead, it’s different._ ”

  
Mickey understood that, he understood that more than anyone.

  
He never talked about it, but his own mum's death had hit him pretty hard.

  
It had been several years now, but he still remembered what it felt like; to know that they were never coming back.

  
_“No-one gets that though.. they- my family, they think I’m crazy for even caring that she’s dead.”_

  
_“You would get it.”_

  
Mickey nodded, appreciating that Ian acknowledged that.

  
_“Listen Mick, I never apologized to you for what happened back then... after my diagnosis, before you went to jail.”_

  
Mickey’s heart started racing.

  
No.

  
He couldn’t do this.

  
He had gone so long without letting himself think about that conversation they had on the Gallagher’s porch...

  
Their breakup.

  
Mickey thought about hanging up, not listening to the rest of the message, but he willed himself to stay strong.

  
So he listened.

  
_“I wasn’t myself, but that’s no excuse. You didn’t deserve that, all you did was care for me and I threw it all back in your face like you meant nothing to me.”_

  
_“I am really sorry Mickey... you- you deserved better than that.”_

  
Mickey took in a shaky breath, trying to control himself.

  
He had imagined Ian saying this kind of thing all the time.. in fact it was one of the things that got him through the time he served in jail... but hearing the words out loud,

  
Hearing Ian say them, released something in Mickey that he didn’t fully know he was holding onto and suddenly, the dam broke and Mickey started crying.

  
Not just normal, tears running down the face crying either.

  
Mickey's whole upper body started shaking with emotion; gut-wrenching sobs tore through his chest as he cried for the boy that got his heart ripped out of his chest for the first time on the porch that day.

  
He cried for the version of himself that was so shit scared of anyone knowing who he truly was that he threw away the only thing that made him happy, treating Ian like dirt so that he wouldn’t get attached when all he really wanted was to pull the boy close and tell him that he _did_ love him and that he _was_ gay.

  
He cried for the version of himself who finally admitted who he really was, to the world and to himself.

  
He cried for the couple that deserved the world but only got heartache instead.

  
Lastly, he cried for the man who despite all the times life had repeatedly kicked him in the ass, honesty believed that the man he loved would leave the life he had built for himself and run away with him.

  
He cried until he didn’t have any tears left.

  
All the emotions that had built up in him over the whole fucked up ordeal all came flooding out in uncontrollable, heart wrenching sobs.

After his breathing went back to normal and his hands stopped shaking he picked up a cigarette and lit it, breathing in the smoke deeply and exhaling slower than usual, trying to regulate his heart beat.

Once he had fully calmed down Mickey stared down at the burner phone, willing it to somehow have answers to all the questions that were swimming round his mind at that moment.

That had been hard, listening to Ian rehash what Mickey believed to be the worst day of his life..

Hearing Ian say he was sorry... Mickey couldn't explain it but it released something in him that he had been subconsciously holding onto since that day on that fucking stupid porch.

And for the first time since Mickey had escaped from prison he felt truly, unequivocally free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me happy.
> 
> Happy makes me write faster (;
> 
> Mickey cried a lot in this chapter, the poor darling. But I felt like he needed to get it out so he could start to truly be happy.


	3. Mickey's side, part two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two.
> 
> Less crying, more healing.

Mickey was in a much better place emotionally when he got the next message.

  
He had never thought about that time and thought that he was owed something by Ian, but hearing Ian apologize for things Mickey didn’t think he was owed an apology for.. it was kinda helping him heal a little bit.

  
So when he got the next message, he felt himself looking forward to listening to it.

  
Especially when he started listening to the message and Ian’s excited voice came through.

  
Mickey grinned as he listened, he liked that Ian had good news and wanted to call and tell him about it... it made him feel something in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a really long time.

  
_“Sorry, I’ve been rambling again.”_ Ian’s voice said, bringing him back to the present.

  
_“it’s just so easy to talk to you.. even if you don’t answer back.. just knowing I’m talking to you... it’s enough.”_

Mickey smiled at that.. he liked this too.. it reminded him of those magical months, before Ian got too sick.. when they would come home and tell each other about their days like some fucking suburban couple.

  
_“Mick, I know that I said this last time.. but I am really sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on like that, make you think I was gonna come with you and then.. not.”_

  
Mickey's heart tightened in his chest. He wasn’t going to deny that didn’t hurt like a mother fucker.

  
_“Fuck!”_

  
_“I’m so fucking selfish!”_

  
_“But you already knew that.”_

  
_“I need to stop calling you... you're probably not even getting these messages, but if you are you’re more than likely trying to move on with your life... the last thing you need is your ex calling you and bitching at you about things you don’t need to give a shit about.”_

  
Mickey scoffed. _Move on?_ He didn’t even know the fucking meaning of the words.

  
It certainly didn’t help that these voice mails were they only thing Mickey had felt like he had to look forward to in a very long time.

  
_“I guess... I guess it’s like with Monica... when you were in jail I knew where you were and that it wasn’t plausible for us to be together, so it was easier to try and move on and not think about you.. but now that you’re out... after I saw you again, free, I can’t seem to go back to pretending that- pretending that you don’t exist anymore.”_

  
Well that was a punch to the fucking guts. Easier to move on? Well woopdi-fucking-doo for him. It wasn’t easy for Mickey, sitting in a jail cell, not knowing what the fuck was going on in Ian's head.

  
Waking up, hoping that this would be the day that the redhead finally came back to visit.

  
_“God Mick, why did you even come back? I treated you so shit last time we saw each other... when I visited you in jail.”_

  
Mickey felt his throat start to close as unwanted memories came flooding back. That last time at the jail when the shell of a person that used to he his partner sat in front of him, eyes devoid of anything even remotely Ian like.

  
Ian said it was hard for him to see Mickey through the glass... well it was fucking hard for Mickey to sit in front of the guy he had been in at least some sort of fucking relationship with for the previous five plus years and feel like he was looking at a stranger.

  
For Mickey to look into the same green eyes that used to give him hope.. and see nothing but indifference.

  
It fucking hurt then and it fucking hurt now thinking about it.

  
_“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you never wanted to see me again after that.”_

  
Mickey admitted, there were days when he was furious with Ian. Days when he blamed every bit of every bad thing that had ever happened to him on the stupid ginger fuck.

  
He would spend hours going over every detail of their relationship and even before that, and find things to be angry at Ian about.  
But at the end of the day, as he lay there, alone, he didn’t feel angry; all he felt was emptiness.

  
_“You kept putting yourself in the line for me... and for what? For me to just shove it back in your face? Jesus, Mickey! I was such a dick to you!”_

  
_“And for what? To feel numb for the rest of my fucking life? I can’t even remember the last time I felt something real, something that made me feel even the slightest bit alive!”_

  
_“Oh wait, yes I do.. it was when I was with you last.”_

  
Mickey took a sharp breath in. That was surprising to hear. He didn’t know how Ian had been doing but he figured since he had a pretty damn cool job and a boyfriend that he must have been at least a little bit happy.

  
Hearing that Ian felt numb too.. it made Mickey feel a tiny little bit better; at least he wasn’t the only one that was miserable.

  
The voicemail cut out then and Mickey hung up the phone and took a deep breath.

  
Fuck.

  
Mickey had never been to therapy. But for some reason he felt like this is what it felt like after a breakthrough session.

  
For the first time since everything had gone down.. for the first time in what seemed like forever, Mickey felt something. Something he didn’t think was possible to feel again;

  
Hope.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the world go round. (;
> 
> ♡♡


	4. Mickey, part three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey could tell by the way Ian's voice was choking up that this was hard for him..
> 
> “What you said about me having your back more than your family did.. that’s true for you too.  
> You had my back when no-one else did... when I first got sick.. they- my family- wanted to put me straight into a clinic, but you knew that I wouldn’t have wanted that... you knew me better than anyone.”
> 
> Mickey closed his eyes. Even though Ian had been sick, they were some of the best times of Mickey’s life. He would have done anything to have those times back again.
> 
> And as much as Ian bringing up the past like this made Mickey feel like he had been repeatedly punched in the gut.. Mickey needed to hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I would like to thank every single person that has left kudos and has commented. I am really enjoying getting into the heads of these characters and telling their story in the way that I would have loved for it to be played out.
> 
> Also, I completely understand that you are wanting to read the conversation between Mickey and Ian and I promise, It's coming! But for now, I felt like this chapter needed to happen, for Mickey and his growth. This chapter took awhile because I really wanted to channel Mickey and how this whole situation was affecting him.
> 
> Next chapter is their conversation, so stay tuned! 
> 
> Keep the comments up if you like, they well and truly make my day!

 

Hannah was the first to say something.

“You look good with a smile on your face Mickey.” She said to him one afternoon as they were cleaning up, preparing for the dinner rush.

“It suits you.”

Mickey couldn’t help but give her a small smile.

He hasn’t even noticed he had been smiling.. that was happening a lot lately.

He would find himself cleaning glasses or restocking the alcohol and all of a sudden a grin would spread on his face.

He had even started smiling at customers when he handed them their drinks.

At first the locals didn’t know what to do, but now they just smiled back.

“Are you going to tell me what’s changed?” Hannah asked with a smile.

The man she had hired moths ago was a lot different to the man standing in front of her now.

That man had seemed to have the world on his shoulders and a broken look in his sea blue eyes.

It was one of the reasons she had hired him in the first place; he had looked so unequivocally broken, she just couldn’t find it in her heart to send him away.  So she had found a job for him and offered him accommodation and watched as he got through each day by _just_ existing.

He barely talked unless he was asked a direct question, and even then he never gave a long answer.

He appeared broken beyond repair and Hannah was almost going to say something.. but then one night, she heard him crying.

No, crying wasn’t the right word... sobbing.

He was sobbing his heart out.

It took everything she had not to go knock on his door and ask if everything was okay, but she didn’t want to embarrass him.. he barely knew her.

So she left it, but then to her surprise the next day there was a light on his eyes that had been missing before.. he looked like a new man.

A couple of months later his whole demeanour had changed, he walked straighter, held himself higher and somehow, his eyes seemed to have gotten bluer.

Now, he was smiling..  at customers and everything!

Hannah couldn't believe the difference between this man on front of her now and the shell of a man she had hired.. they seemed like two different people.

She had to know why.

So she took a deep breath.

“So.... who is she?” Hannah asked.

Mickey’s head jerked up quizzically as he looked at her with confused eyes.

“Who?” He asked.

“This girl, that’s got you smiling! She must be pretty special!”

Hannah replied, nudging Mickey playfully.

Mickey looked down at the bar and Hannah instantly regretted saying anything as she watched her employee revert into himself again.

“Sorry, I overstepped. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Hannah said genuinely.

Mickey looked up at her thoughtfully, like he was deciding wether to say something or not, and then before Hannah could tell him that it was okay, he didn’t have to tell her, Mickey took a deep breath.

“It’s a him.” He said quietly, surprised that his voice didn’t waver even slightly.

“I’m gay.” He said clearly, easily.. like it wasn’t only the second time he had said those words in his whole life.

He looked instantly at Hannah, waiting for her to have a reaction, but she just nodded and smiled.

“Cool.” She said.

Mickey let out a huge breath that he didn’t even know he was holding.

Was it really that easy? Well, he supposed not everyone was like his dad and started an all in brawl at the declaration.

Mickey just couldn’t help but think that the world was going to end if he said those words..  it had been how he was conditioned.

Hannah’s voice brought him back down to reality and he tuned back in as she asked him a question.

“Sorry, who is _he_? This guy that’s got you acting like the world hasn’t taken a giant dump on your head?”

Mickey couldn’t help but omitt a small laugh at that and Hannah’s eyebrows raised even more.

“What?” Mickey asked, “I'm allowed to have a sense of humour aren’t I?”

“Yes.” Hannah answered immedietly, “Just never heard you laugh before.” She said.

Mickey rolled his eyes. Everything was such a huge deal to females, he didn’t get it.

“Ian.” He said.

“Hmm?” Hannah asked, looking up from her inventory.

Mickey blushed. “His names Ian.. the guy that’s making me smile.. he’s my ex.”

Hannah’s eyebrows shot up.

“He must be a pretty good ex.. none of my ex’s make me smile like that!”

Mickey laughed again. “We didn’t exactly get an ending.. not a proper one anyway.” He said.

“There was a lot that we never said to each other.. and well.. he has been telling me a few things that I kinda really needed to hear.”

Hannah’s eyes were wide as she smiled at him. “You been talking to him?” She asked.

“Not exactly.” Mikey replied. “He’s been leaving me voicemails.. apologizing about shit that we went through..  that he put me through.”

Hannah winced. “Was he a dick to you?” She asked.

Mickey thought about that question. “Well.. yes, I guess he was.. but it wasn’t his fault. “

Hannah rolled her eyes.

“It never is..” She said wryly.

Mickey snorted. “No, it really wasn't.. he got diagnosed with bipolar disease and it was rough there for awhile.. he didn’t want to get medicated.. and at first, I didn’t want him to either.. but it got to the point where he needed to be..

But he wasn’t ready and.. then other stuff happened and we broke up.” Mickey said vaguely, not wanting to mention the jail side.

He liked Hannah, but he didn’t trust her enough to tell her anything like that.. he didn’t even fully know why he was spilling his guts now.

She was nice, didnt take anyone’s bullshit.. she kinda reminded him of an older version of Fiona.

Whatever, she was easy to talk to.

“We saw each other again a couple of months ago and it was like it used to be.. before all the bad shit happened.

He was him again.. the Ian that I remembered.. and he agreed to come with me.”

Mickey trailed off and looked down, busying himself with refilling straws.

Hannah looked at him sadly.

“Guessing by the fact that he’s not here right now, that he changed his mind?”

Mickey nodded and shrugged.

“He had a boyfriend and shit.. why would he want to throw that away for a fucking loser like me?” He asked sadly.

Hannah could tell by the way he said it that he wasn’t being self depreciating, fishing for Hannah to tell him that he wasn’t in fact a loser..

It was how he genuinely felt.

Hannah looked at him sympathetically. She hadn’t known the man for long, but she didn’t like to see him in such obvious pain.

“But he loved you?” She asked.

_“I love you.”_

_“Then get in the fucking car.”_

Mickey shrugged.

“He said he did.. but I dunno, if he really did, wouldn’t he be here right now?”

Hannah smiled sadly. “Maybe it’s not that simple.”

_“This isn’t me anymore.. I’m sorry.”_

“Mmm.” Mickey replied and Hannah could tell he was done talking.

It was good timing really, the dinner rush was starting to come in and they were about to get smashed.

So Hannah left it there, but she wasn’t done talking to the man. He obviously had more to get out and he could do some serious damage trying to keep it all in.

**

That night Mickey was glad to finish work. Most nights he didn’t mind the job, but they were slammed that evening and he was ready to kick back with a beer and smoke and just relax.

The last thing he was expecting was a new message.

It had only been a few days since the last one..  and usually there was at least a week in between them.

Mickey’s heart started beating faster, what if something bad had happened?

Mickey grabbed the phone and beer and went out to the balcony, pressing call as he walked.

Mickey sighed with relief when Ian’s voice came through sounding normal.

_“I was in shock when you came back.”_

Okay, straight into it.

_“I honestly didn’t think I would see you again and then all of a sudden there you were.. you were real again, not this thing that I had- or so I thought- pushed to the back of my head._

_You were real, and you were you and in that moment, nothing else mattered._

_My family, my job, Trevor, nothing mattered but you and me and that moment.”_

Trevor. So that’s the boyfriends name... he sounded like a dick.

_“But then, when we were at the border, reality kicked in._

Mickey sighed. Yeah, reality that he didn’t want to be with Mickey anymore.

_I worked so hard to get my job Mick, and I fucking love it, I’m really good at it and I couldn't just leave them high and dry like that..”_

Mickey huffed, but he got it. Now that he knew what it was like to have a job where people depended on him to show up, he understood why Ian couldn't just up and leave it..

Especially considering Ian would be kickass at saving people, Mickey knew that he would. He always did have a hero complex and that type of work would be perfect for him.

_“And my family...”_

_“As much as I complain about them and they annoy the crap out of me... they’re my family and I love them.”_

_“It wouldn’t have been safe to tell them where we were or even say goodbye.. I couldn’t do that to them Mick.”_

_“Not after everything I’ve put them through.”_

Mickey sighed again, he had never really thought about it like that.. Ian was right.  As much as they would have wanted to, they wouldn’t have been able to tell any of the Gallaghers where they are going and there wouldn’t have been a chance for Ian to say goodbye.. as much as he trusted Ian’s family, being Southside through and through, it wouldn’t have been fair to burden them with the knowledge of where a known fugitive was.

Mickey could tell by the way Ian's voice was choking up that this was hard for him..

_“What you said about me having your back more than your family did.. that’s true for you too._

_You had my back when no-one else did... when I first got sick.. they- my family- wanted to put me straight into a clinic, but you knew that I wouldn’t have wanted that... you knew me better than anyone.”_

Mickey closed his eyes. Even though Ian had been sick, they were some of the best times of Mickey’s life. He would have done anything to have those times back again.

And as much as Ian bringing up the past like this made Mickey feel like he had been repeatedly punched in the gut.. Mickey needed to hear it.

_“I missed you so much too Mick, you have no idea._

_I had just gotten so good at pretending that I didnt feel anything, when it actually came to telling you that... I couldn’t find the words._

Mickey’s throat tightened as Ian brought him back to that night; the night before Ian had left him again.

Sure, it had fucking hurt when he had told Ian how much he missed him and Ian hadn’t said anything back. But Mickey didn’t need him too. He honestly just wanted him to know.

So much of their relationship had been Ian saying how he felt and Mickey wanting to, but being so shit scared of the consequences of letting words like that slip, had shut his mouth.

_Not everyone just gets to blurt out how they fucking feel every minute._

Those words had been hard enough for Mickey to say, let alone what he really wanted to tell Ian. It had taken Mickey a very long time before he was able to be comfortable enough to tell Ian how he felt, and even then, there was much more he wanted to say, that he just couldn’t get out.

_But I want you to know, I did think about you alot.. not at first, when I was being a selfish dick and trying to forget you even existed, but definitely after.”_

Mickey nodded, even though he knew Ian couldn’t see him. He hasn’t known what to do with Ian's response to his question.

_You ever think about me? When I was in the joint?_

_Alot._

He hasn’t asked Ian to elaborate, it hadn’t seemed fair.. Ian never made him.

Hearing Ian explaining himself now though, it was more than Mickey could ever ask for.

_“Once- once I got on the right dose of meds and the side effects calmed down, I could actually think clearly and that’s when I started really missing you. Sometimes I would wake up and forget that you weren’t here anymore.. I would have to live through our breakup again...”_

The porch.

_I love you._

_What the hell does that even mean?_

_It means we take care of each other._

Mickey pinched the top of his nose to try and stop the tears burning in his eyes.

He didn’t like to think about that day, _ever_. It hurt way too much. But Ian having to relive it over and over? That sucks.

Although it can’t of been as hard as it was for Mickey. Ian was the one who had done the dumping.

It didn’t hurt to hear Ian say that he missed him though. That made him feel sort of warm in the belly.

_“But anyway.  The point of this trip down memory lane is that I need you to know, it was never about you; the reason I didn’t come with you._

_It was never about you not being enough or anything._

_If I hadn’t had my job and my family, I would have come with you in a heartbeat”_

_“I know it might sound like I’m making excuses but I need you to know this.”_

Mickey felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wished the phone service had a pause and replay option but he couldn’t really expect much from a cheap burner phone.

That was the last thing he was expecting to hear though.

He had always thought the reason Ian hadn’t come with him was because he had decided that he would be better off with his comfy boyfriend and comfy job.. He hadn’t taken any of the other things Ian had told him about into consideration.

Now, hearing Ian say that if it wasn’t for those things, he would have come... Mickey didn’t know how to feel.

Part of him still felt the anger and resentment that had fueled him on for the last few months, that had kept him sane really, because it hurt too much to let any other feelings in.

But there was no going back from this. He couldn’t just unhear words he had only dreamed of hearing.

Mickey’s chest felt tight and he felt slight nausea in the pit of his stomach, but he couldn't help feel a small smile creep on to his face, after all these years it still amazed Mickey how Ian could be so completely in tune with how Mickey was feeling. It wasn't just the sentiment of Ian's confession, but the exact wording. Mickey had never told anyone the the thing that hurt him the most about Ian not coming with him, he could barely even think it, and then here was Gallagher, reaching into his subconscious and discrediting his though processes.

_"It was never about you not being enough."_

Ian's words ran through Mickey's head again as he ran a hand through his hair and unsuccessfully tried to stop a stray tear from running down his cheek. Ian knew how much those words meant to Mickey, he had to. Mickey had spent his whole fucking life feeling like he wasn't enough. He wasn't the hardass,  _straight_ son that Terry Milkovich needed him to be, he wasn't enough to stop Mandy from being abused, first sexually, then physically. No matter what he did to try and better his life, he was always seen as "One of those dirty fucking Milkovich's." He had  _never_ been enough.

Even after he had started seeing Ian and felt what it was like to actually feel, he still didn't feel like it was enough, like _he_ was enough. He couldn't give Ian anything he wanted, not really. He couldn't be seen with him in public, he couldn't tell anyone how he felt about the ginger, fuck, he couldn't even admit how he felt to himself!!

_“Lip was surprised I didn’t come you know?”_ Ian's voice said, bringing him back to the present.

_“He didnt think I should have, but he was surprised I didn’t.”_

_“Anyway.”_   _“I just really wanted you to know that.”_

_“Bye Mick, I hope things are going good for you.”_

Ian paused and Mickey expected the call to end there, but just as he was about to hang up, he heard Ian's breath hitch. And then...

_“I love you.”_

Before Mickey knew what was happening, a loud sob choked out of his throat and the tears that he had been so successfully able to keep at bay, spilled down his cheeks unceremoniously.

“Fuck you Gallagher.” He whispered, mad at the redhead for being a million miles away and still being able to revert him to a blubbering mess.

But there was no malice in his tone, only misery.

More sobs that Mickey didn’t see coming erupted from him as the tears kept coming.

Fuck.

Mickey hung up the phone and threw it on the bed, where it bounced off and fell on the floor, landing just under the bed where his pillow was.

Fuck. That wasn’t enough.

For the first time that he had arrived in the peaceful town, he felt like he needed to hit something, or someone.

“Fuck!” this time it was out loud.

Mickey started to look around the room for something to throw at the wall, something he could throw that would make him feel better but not actually damage anything.

But he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Who the fuck was that?

Mickey thought about ignoring it, but then they knocked again.

Fuck.

Reluctantly, Mickey walked over and opened the door to find a bottle of top shelf Jack Daniels in front of his face.

After a few seconds the bottle lowered and Hannah stood in front of him, a soft smile on her face.

“May I come in?” She asked gently.

Mickey scowled and looked at the floor, hoping she didn’t notice how red his eyes were from crying. “Not really in the mood.” He mumbled, not looking her in the eyes.

“Well, yes. Judging by the sounds that have been coming from your room for the last half an hour, I can tell that you're not in any sort of mood for entertaining. But you sound distressed and the way I see it, I would rather check on you now then listen to you do something stupid from the comfort of my own room.”

Mickey kept staring at his feet.

“I’m not gonna do anything stupid.” He grumbled.

“Be that as it may, I feel like it is my responsibility as your employer who you so uncharacteristically confided in this morning.. to check in on you and at least offer you a drink from our toppest of top shelf stash, be much better than that cheap, nasty beer I normally see you drinking.

If you want to tell me to fuck off, I will. But you sound like you need someone to talk to.. and I’ve been told I’m an excellent listener!”

Mickey looked up at her slightly and saw that her expression was as stubborn as her voice sounded and realized he wasn’t going to get out of this one easily.

He couldn’t help smiling slightly at the stubbornness though. It made him miss his sister.

Mandy was without a doubt the most annoying, stubborn, headstrong, difficult person he'd ever met, and he fucking missed her like mad.

So, instead of turning Hannah away with a flip of the bird like old Mickey would have, he stepped back and let her enter. She followed him into the kitchen where he got two small shot glasses out of a cupboard and sat them in front of her.

Hannah quickly got to work unscrewing the lid and pouring the Jacks into the glasses. Once they were filled, Mickey picked his up and slammed it back, wincing as the warm liquid burned his throat on the way down. He then slammed the glass down in front of Hannah and gestured at her to refill it.

Hannah raised her eyebrows.

“What?” Mickey deadpanned. “You expect me to talk, I’m gonna need at least two more of them.” He said easily.

So Hannah shrugged and poured him another one which went down as quickly as the first.

Hannah refilled the glass for the third time and Mickey didn’t hesitate before downing it, the liquid settling at the pit of his stomach, warming it.

“Ian.. uh, he left another message.” He said, finally meeting Hannah’s eyes properly for the first time since she had knocked on the door.

“What did he say this time?” Hannah asked gently.

Mickey shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

“He said that if it wasn’t for his job or family, he would have come with me in a heart beat. He said that he missed me, all the fucking time. And.. and he told me he loves me.”

Hannah remained silent for a minute, taking in what Mickey had said.

“Do you think he meant it?” She asked finally.

Mickey’s head snapped up. “Which bit?” He scoffed.

“Any of it?”

Mickey stared down at the counter, tracing the patterns in it with his finger.

He was silent for so long that Hannah thought he didn’t hear her, but then he looked up, his blue eyes shiny with emotion.

“I’m gone. He has no clue where I am and he doesn’t even know for sure that I’m even listening to the messages. He has nothing at all to gain from saying those things.. I-I cant help but think he means it..

Why else would the say it?” He said, his voice full of emotion.

Hannah nodded thoughtfully. “That’s very true.” She said.

“So what’s next?”

Mickey looked at her with a furrowed brow. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“Ate you going to call him back?” Hannah asked, as if the answer was obvious.

Mickey picked up the glass and swirled it in his hand. “I honestly don’t know what the fuck to do.” He said finally.

Hannah nodded.

“I mean, those were things that Ian needed to get off his chest..  it was as much for himself as it was for me.” Mickey continued.

“Think he was holding onto all of that shit and it was messing him up a bit. He said it was good to get it out in the open.. kinda like therapy or some shit.”

Hannah nodded again, slower this time.

“And how has it made you feel?” She asked gently. “Hearing him say that he would have come with you.”

Mickey shrugged. “Better I guess.. I don’t know what to fucking think.. none of it seems real, even though it was his voice, it feels like a dream or something stupid like that.”

Mickey sighed. He had opened up enough to Hannah already, there was no point holding back now.

“The last time we were together I asked him some questions, like if he ever thought about me and shit.. He didn’t really answer and in the message he kinda made up for that.. told me what was going through his head.”

Hannah offered him a small smile. “That would have been good to hear.” She said.

"It was." Mickey smiled.

Hannah sighed.

“Look, you’re one of my best workers and you obviously have a lot of shit to sort out in your head, so I want you to take tomorrow off..  have some time to sort shit out.”

Mickey opened his mouth to protest but Hannah stopped him with a hand up to his face.

“Paid leave.” She said and Mickey shut his mouth and nodded.

“Thanks Hannah.” He said genuinely.

Hannah poured them both another glass of Jacks and held hers up in a toast.

Mickey clicked his glass against hers and downed the liquid quickly.

If only the alcohol could get his mind off the stupid redhead that had permanently invaded his thoughts.

**

Mickey slept in the next day. It was one of the first time he had since he has got to the sleepy town, usually he was straight up for work, so it took a couple of seconds to figure out what was going on. He and Hannah had stayed up most of the night drinking, talking, telling each other about various shit that had gone down in their relationships. Mickey didn't remember getting into bed but he knew it was really late by the time they had retired.

The sun was streaming through the windows in his small apartment and there was an incessant ringing sound. Frowning, Mickey picked up his phone from the dresser and looked at it blearily, but it wasn’t ringing.

Mickey frowned deeper when the ringing continued and reached his hand down under his bed, where the noise seemed to be coming from.

It wasn’t until Mickey had the burner in his hand and was staring at the lit up screen that he realized what was happening.

_Ian._

Mickey’s hand started shaking and his throat felt dry. He didn’t expect Ian to be calling.. he’d always missed the calls before.. but then, he had been at work.

Mickey stared down at the ringing object, trying to collect his thoughts, but before he could stop himself he had answered the call and held the phone up to his ear.. but now what?

There was no way he could talk, his brain couldn't seem to form sentences of thought, let alone be able to send them to his mouth for him to be able to say out loud.

Ian didn’t say anything either and Mickey wondered if he even realized Mickey had answered.

“Mick?” Came Ian’s voice hesitantly, cautiously.

Mickey breathed heavier, trying as hard as he could to form words.

He had answered, wasn’t that the hard bit? Obviously not because now Mickey couldn’t even bring himself to actually speak.

What did he fucking say? What _could_ he say?

“Hi.” He choked out, his voice conveying the million emotions going through his head.

It was Ian’s turn to go silent now. Mickey could hear the hitch in his breath as he started to say something and then change his mind. That happened four times before Mickey's brain finally stopped spinning enough to form a full sentence.

“I uh- I got your messages.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think, comments make me very happy (: (: (:  
> ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡


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